


Skin Deep, Sky High, Heart Wide

by oftennot



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I know absolutely nothing about Ice Dance or Figure Skating, Ice Skating, Mutual Pining, Sports, ice dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29911716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftennot/pseuds/oftennot
Summary: Galen has a +1 to performance, but Birdie has a +10.
Relationships: Birdie Morlas/Galen Zankyri
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song SkindeepSkyhighHeartwide by Pale Waves.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire Meeting

The music winds down, applause from the audience overtaking it. Galen holds his final pose for the practiced five seconds, enough time for the photographers and cameras to capture his image. He turns and bows to the judges and waves to the audience as he skates over to the gate, but he cannot bring himself to smile.

He can imagine what the commentators on air are saying about his performance.

_"A technically sound routine, but lacking in spirit."  
_

_"Mr. Zankyri somehow manages to be the least interesting figure skater to watch."_

Acorn is waiting for him outside the rink, towel at the ready. He accepts it with a nod, and they walk over to the benches to await his score. She doesn't say anything to him as they stare at the screens in front of them, and he doesn't need her to. They both know he had a lackluster performance.

"Galen Zankyri, representing Astomos," the voice of the announcer rings out in the arena, "with a final score of 95.2."

He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, trying to slow his still racing heart. Not even in the top three. "Maybe I should just give up," he mumbles, uncaring if the cameras pick up the movement of his lips for all the viewers to see.

Acorn is silent for a long moment, and Galen thinks she might actually be agreeing with him. It's the least he deserves.

But she speaks. "I have an idea. You're not going to like it."

"What do I have left to lose?" He chuckles, throwing his head back, and stares at the bright lights of the auditorium. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"In that case, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

* * *

A week later, Galen is regretting his decision.

"Why did I let you convince me to do this?"

Acorn snorts at him. "I didn't convince you to do shit. You decided this."

She's right, but he's weary all the same. Pairs figure skating? Really? When he can't even perform well enough by himself, how will adding another person into the mix make that better?

"And this other mystery person, they've already agreed to the idea?" He asks instead.

She nods as they walk up the steps of the Eclipse Ice Rink. "She's done pairs before, unlike you. But it's been a few years, so she's out of practice and will have to relearn a lot of the basics."

He frowns at that. Galen's been skating for years now, like most professionals. The community is not that large, and if Acorn knows this person, then he's probably heard of her. "Did you coach her too? Who was her previous partner?"

"I did," Acorn answers, ducking under Galen's arm when he holds the front door open for her. The blast of cool air hits him upon entering the building, a chill that his bones have long since become familiar with. He glances at the gnome woman after she doesn't offer up an answer to his second question.

"You know, all this tight-lipped business doesn't make me feel any better about the arrangement. What's the big deal?"

"It's not really my business to tell, kid," Acorn looks back at him, her face weary and tired. "It's... complicated. You're better off talking to her about it." She juts her chin to the rink that opens up at the end of the hallway.

There's music playing from the speakers in the rink, some kind of upbeat, pop rendition of a violin accompaniment. He can hear the scrape of blades across the ice, and continues down the hallway in order to get a look at this mystery woman, who is supposed to be his _partner_ now.

He makes it to the deck of the rink right as she skates past. She glides over the ice with ease that only those who've spent hours upon hours on it can wield. She twists and turns her body with nary a slip or loss of balance, and when she jumps and spins in the air it looks natural, like a bird taking flight.

She's good, Galen thinks, his eyes tracking her every movement on the rink. Very good.

Her style is energetic and free form. The routine she's doing is probably one she learned from Acorn. He can spot his coach's style in the subtle but poignant maneuvers. But this woman deviates from the script, adding in flourishes and theatricality that Acorn would never suggest herself. It's bold, it's different, and it's unlike anything Galen ever does.

He's itching to get on the ice and join her.

Acorn seemed to have picked up on his desire or expected this exact scenario, because she's already walking up to him with his skates in hand.

"What are you waiting for?"

He grins and takes his skates, setting down his duffle bag and toeing his shoes off. He laces up quickly and approaches the gate to the rink, waiting for an opportunity to enter. The woman hasn't given any indication she's noticed their presence yet, and that, at least, Galen can understand. When you're on the ice, everything else fades away.

She's making another loop around, and as she coasts up to the side they're standing at, Galen skates out onto the ice. He lets her move past him as he warms up, but he trails after her. He matches her speed, staying a few feet behind her. At first, he tries to copy her movement but soon realizes that will not work at all. She's smaller than him and her body moves differently. But Galen knows how he best feels on the ice, so he instead tries to complement her movements.

When she raises her hands up and twirls, he spreads his wide, bracing his weight in his legs, and imagines grabbing her by the waist and lifting her above him. She holds her right leg out at a 90-degree angle and spins, and he spins alongside her. They're not quite in sync—he doesn't know the routine after all and has to wait and see what she does next—but he matches her rotation fairly well. She lowers into a crouch, swinging her leg out in front of her and tucks her head in, spinning faster and faster, like a top set winding. Galen copies this too, and when they rise once more and plant both feet on the ice, coming to a stop, she is facing him.

He blinks in surprise. It's not only her free form that is unpredictable, it seems. They size each other up, not saying anything. The music still blaring overhead is the only sound besides their quickened breaths. She's slightly taller than is average for female skaters, but has the typical slender yet toned physique. Her hair is tied up into two buns, which seems like an odd choice given the maturity he can see in her face, but considering the way she moved on the ice, it's in line with her style. She's human, with tan skin and dark hair, and even darker eyes that shine with curiosity and excitement as they rove over him.

He resists the urge to fidget and run his hands through his hair that is no doubt flailing about in equal excitement while he waits for her to say something. She doesn't look disappointed or upset or grossed out by his presence—gods, he's _nervous_. He cares a lot about what she thinks of him.

Finally, the woman nods and sets her hands on her hips, meeting his eyes with a smile. "I suppose you're my new partner, then?" Her voice is somehow just as bright as her eyes, and the longer he's in her presence the more she starts to make sense. Like there was never a mystery at all, but rather an old photo that had been forgotten is now recovered, and once you blow the dust off all becomes clear.

His lips twitch up in a tentative smile. "I am. I hope that's alright."

Her head tilts to the side, and she smirks at him. "Well, that depends."

"Depends on what?"

"How well you can do a lift."

Galen chuckles and glances down at their skates. Hers are tie-dye of yellow, green, and purple. "I've never done one before, but I know the theory behind it."

"Lucky for you, I've done it plenty of times before. I can lead you through it."

He inhales sharply and looks up at her. "You want to try that out, right off the bat?"

"Only one way to find out, right?" She shakes her head. "Are you comfortable with that?"

He's dying to try, actually. All the previous hesitation he felt towards the arrangement vanished when he saw her skating. He's _excited_ to be on the ice and trying something new. He didn't realize how long it'd been since he felt that way until he had it again.

"Yeah," he says, nodding his head as he meets those shining eyes. "Let's give it a shot."

She smiles, and it lights up her whole face. She holds a hand out to him. "Right, follow my lead."

He takes it. They start skating, her going backwards, pulling Galen along after her. "We'll do a basic front lift, okay? You're going to lift me from my waist. I need to center myself from my abdomen, and you from your legs. Simple enough!"

Somehow, Galen doubts it's that simple, but he also wants to see just how difficult it could be. He smiles, the anticipation setting his skin tingling. "I think I can do that."

"Here we go! On my count," she winks at him. "Three, two, one!"

He pulls her toward him, and she's ready to meet him, guiding his hand to her waist. His other hand comes up to brace her on both sides. They meet each other's eyes. She gives him a quick nod. Her legs tense and push as she jumps, and he uses momentum to help lift her into the air. He can feel her torso tighten as she finds balance, her legs straightening out behind her and her arms spread to either side. She's heavy, because despite her slim build she is full of lean muscle, and having to support the weight of another person is not something Galen has had to do on the ice before. But he's quick on his feet and has had to course correct his own moves countless times. He's able to adjust his stance and shift his own weight as his arms stabilize and hold her above him.

He's doing it. _They're_ doing it. His eyes have stayed trained on her throughout the whole procedure, so he sees the complete transformation of her face from an excited smile to eyes closed in something like peace as she glides through the air. After one, two seconds, her eyes open again, finding his immediately.

Galen is no stranger to the flow state—when people performing an activity become so immersed in the focus and enjoyment of it that everything else fades away. This, however, is different. When she smiles down at him, he feels something like possibility. Suspended in this moment, visions of their future performances flash through his mind—what they could do, what they could be. What they could accomplish together.

His answering smile is wide, more of a laugh. He starts to carefully lower her. She sets her hands on his shoulders to brace herself. The blades of her skates touch the ice, and she's able to fall into his glide without issue. His hands are still on her waist, and her arms are still wrapped around his shoulders. They come to a stop in the middle of the rink, chests heaving from the exhiliration. His cheeks are starting to ache from all the smiling he's been doing in the last few minutes.

"That was," he starts.

"Brilliant!" she finishes, biting her lip and wiggling in joy.

The sound of clapping comes from the side of the rink. They both jolt in surprise and turn to see Acorn with a rare smile of her own directed at them. He'd completely forgotten about his coach.

"Well done, Birdie, Galen," she says, crossing her arms. "That was a good start, but you two got a long way to go if you want to win a championship."

The woman—Birdie, he turns her name over in his mind, how appropriate—looks back at him. "Nice to meet you, Galen."

His hand twitches at her waist, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "Nice to meet you too, Birdie."


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Practice

Seven years is a long to not be on the ice, Birdie knows. Acorn reminded her of such at every opportunity after she approached her former coach about her desire to return to the rink. 

"It won't be the same as before," said Acorn, "You're a lot older now and your body has changed. You'll have to relearn how to move on the ice."

To say she was nervous when standing at the gate leading to the rink would've been an understatement. Goosebumps dotted her skin and her hands visibly shook as they reached out and slid the latch open. She stared at the ice before her, noting all the scratches and grooves etched into the ground from countless blades running across it. How many of these had she made, she wondered. Did the ice still remember her, or had her memory been buffed away over the years? 

Birdie sucked in a breath, the cold air of the rink filling her lungs, and glided onto the ice. There was a bit of a wobble as she adjusted her balance. The skates she was wearing were her old ones that she had to dig out from a box stuffed deep into her closet. The laces were unraveling at the ends and the blades needed sharpening, but they somehow still fit. She skated a slow, tentative lap around the rink. Her muscles were slow to wake, the frost of a long, dark winter slow to melt off of them. She finished two more laps before picking up her speed, leaning her torso forward and pumping her arms to gain momentum. Her gait elongated and the force behind each thrust propelled her forward faster and faster. Loose strands of hair flapped against her cheeks, but she hardly noticed. All she saw was the expanse of white in front of her. All she felt was the rush of air flowing past her. 

She went round and around until her legs ached and the breath inside her chest burned. Birdie continued sailing forward, the wall at the end of the rink growing closer, and she waited until she was mere feet away from crashing to twist her body and skid to a stop. Her ankles protested at the sudden movement, her balance faltering at the abrupt change in speed. She fell forward and had to thrust her arms out in front of her to catch herself on the wall. The beating of her heart pounded against her chest and reverberated in her ears. Her limbs were shaking but alive, electric. She felt the blood pumping through her veins and the warm glow of exertion in her muscles.

Birdie was having _fun_.

This is how Acorn and the blue man found her. She left the ice briefly to play the song from one of her favorite routines on the intercom, and then rushed back to catch the spark again before it left her. Birdie was completely immersed in the routine, the moves and choreography gradually coming back to her, but was not taken by surprise when she heard a second set of blades skating behind her and caught sight of blue in her peripheral whenever she spun.

So this was her new partner, the man she'd be working with to make a comeback in figure skating. 

He seemed eager, if a bit lost, while copying her movements. She saw the skill and confidence with which he conducted himself on the ice. He was no amateur, which was reassuring. Perhaps it was the high she was riding on, or maybe it was the exhilaration this man exuded, his hair curiously sweeping to and fro like leaves in a breeze. Whatever excuse Birdie wanted to use, the suggestion to do a lift fell out of her mouth faster than one of her spins. It was a foolish idea, dangerous and costly should it go wrong. And yet, they did it. He lifted her up into the air and Birdie felt herself fly once more. 

This could work.

Galen is his name. According to Acorn, he's a relatively new student of hers, picked up a few years after Birdie quit. He practiced with a different coach prior to that, but Acorn was not forthcoming with the details on that. Naturally, this made Birdie all the more curious. They only skated together briefly during that introduction of theirs, but Birdie could see Galen has talent. Yet based on the internet snooping she immediately did after leaving the rink that day, he was struggling in his performances. The videos proved it to be true. The technique and know-how were there, but a certain energy and delicacy were lacking. Birdie does not judge Galen for it. On the contrary, this knowledge makes her feel better about the elements of her own performance that need to be polished, which will inevitably reveal themselves during their first practice. 

She arrives early, well before Galen. Beginner classes for children are being held, the familiar form of Bellamy staking around the kids struggling to find balance as they move. Birdie throws her bag onto the bleachers and starts stretching, the anticipation coursing through her not letting her sit still. Acorn is sure to be in the building already, but she hasn't elected to make herself known yet. Galen appears first, his arrival announced by the thunk his own bag makes as he too throws it onto the bench. 

"Hiya!" Birdie peeks up at him from where her head to nestled against her shins, arms wrapped tightly around her calves. "Excited for our first official practice?" 

He raises an eyebrow at her but has an easy smile on his face. "Yeah, sure. You could say that." Galen busies himself with unzipping his jacket and tossing it alongside beside his bag. Underneath he's wearing a sleeveless workout tank. _Ooh, very nice shoulders,_ Birdie notes as she stands up from one stretch and transitions into another. This time she hikes a leg up onto the railing that lines the wall separating the deck from the ice, and bends over to grasp the sole of her foot. "That doesn't sound like you're excited."

Galen hops on his feet, shaking out his limbs, before beginning stretches of his own. "I'm determined," he answers. 

Birdie hums as she considers that. She continues watching him as they continue stretching and prepare to enter the rink. The same energy and eagerness she felt from him the other day is present now too, but it's more focused and honed in. His eyes are on the rink before them, but she can tell that he is not seeing it, exactly; rather, a visualization of their practice to come. _So he's the intense type,_ she thinks. It would explain his performance style—technical over theatrical. 

She smothers a giggle and switches to her other leg. Well, he's certainly going to have a fun time with her pizzazz. 

After another 10 minutes of stretching, the children on the ice are herded away by a smiling Bellamy, and the door to the office swings open. Out walks Acorn, wearing her typical tracksuit and carrying a clipboard, a stopwatch hanging from her neck. Birdie and Galen straighten up to face her, not unlike the group of kids when Bellamy blows his whistle for their attention. Acorn, however, does not need a whistle, nor does she ever shout. Her presence alone does the commanding for her, and despite her small stature, people know to shut up and listen when she speaks. When she passes by her two students, she spares them nothing but a grunted "Follow me," and a lazy flick of her hand, continuing on without stopping to wait for them.

Galen looks at Birdie and she mirrors his smirk. Typical Acorn. She's glad that he too is familiar with her unique coaching style. They both make to grab for their skates, when Acorn speaks up again. "Don't bother with those. You won't need them today."

"What?"

"Why?"

They exchange another look, this one bewildered and upset. Acorn doesn't stop her march out of the rink as she answers, "If you hurry the hell up you'll find out faster."

Birdie pouts, and hears a _tch_ of displeasure from Galen, but they follow their coach nonetheless. They exit the main arena housing the ice rink and head up the stairs to the second floor. She realizes where they're headed the moment they reach the landing. Acorn stands in front of the door to the training room with one hand on her hip, the other holding the clipboard. Despite the two of them not being even 10 seconds behind her, she manages to look as if she's been kept waiting for an hour. 

"I figure there's not much for me to explain here," she says by way of introduction.

"Strength training?" Galen offers, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

"And endurance, and cardio, and everything in between." 

With that, Acorn turns and sweeps the door open. Galen jumps forward to hold it open, gesturing for Birdie to head in before him. Inside she is greeted not only by the ever unimpressed face of her coach, but by the sharp smirk and flashing eyes of a halfling woman. Birdie perks up in interest, wondering who the unexpected presence is, when Galen answers her unasked question for her. 

"Trym? What are you doing here?"

Trym steps forward and gives him a friendly punch to the arm, but it doesn't escape Birdie's notice how he winces and rubs the spot gingerly. "That's how you great your best friend? And new _coach_ —"

"Coach?!"

"Alright, alright," Acorn says, rolling her eyes. "Let's get our shit in order here. Staring today, I am no longer your only coach. If you guys want to make any type of showing at national or international competitions, then skating has to become your life. And I know—" she holds up a hand just as Birdie and Galen open their mouths to insist it _is_ (used to be) their lives. "You're no stranger to hard work and dedication. But this is different." 

Her eyes land on Galen. "This isn't a solo performance. You not only need to improve your own performance, but you have to support hers as well." He flinches at that.

Birdie doesn't have time to consider that interesting tidbit, because Acorn's hard, unyielding gaze transfers to her next. "This won't be the same as before. You're not the same skater anymore, and he isn't your brother." It's Birdie's turn to flinch, and she feels her shoulders sink right as Galen looks at her curiously. 

"Let me make myself clear," Acorn continues, "I think you two have potential. I've seen first hand what you both can do, and there's real chemistry between you. The other day was proof of that." 

A smile starts to sprout on Birdie's face, her spine straightening up again, but she should've known that her coach wasn't finished. "It was also proof that neither of you know what you're getting into, and that you're both idiots." 

Their reactions are immediate. 

"Hey, what the hell—" One hand comes out of Galen's pocket to point at the gnome. 

"I am _not_ an _idiot_ —" Birdie sniffs and crosses her arm.

Acorn doesn't even blink. "That stunt you pulled was not only reckless and dangerous, but it violates the rules of ice dancing. Do you know why?" 

A hot, tense silence settles over the room. Trym has been watching the scene unfold with unmasked amusement. Birdie feels Acorn's eyes boring into her, waiting for a response. Her cheeks heat with shame as the answer only now dawns on her. 

"You're not allowed to lift your partner above your head in competition," she mumbles, angling her face to Galen rather than Acorn. Even then, she can't lift her eyes further up than his pockets, where she sees his hand tighten into a fist. 

"And what was the first thing you buffoons did?" 

Galen rolls his head back. "Okay already, we get it. We fucked up." 

"No, I don't think you do." In a rare display, anger seeps into Acorn's tone. For all her wooden expressions and dry hunor, the gnomish woman almost never showed true anger. "There's a reason those rules are in place, why those moves are banned. People can get seriously injured. People can die. 

"One thing you need to learn right now is that you are responsible for each other out there on the ice. Even during practice when there's tons of people around you, your safety depends on each other. One fuck up from you could mean a lifelong injury for the other person. Do you really want that on your hands? Are you ready to shoulder that burden?"

The silence this time is choking, deafening. Birdie is suddenly 17 years old again, young and foolish and hanging on every compliment or dismissal from the gnome in front of her. Acorn doesn't say _you should know better,_ because she doesn't need to. That part, at least, is not lost on her.

Thankfully, Acorn is also not one to dwell on things. She made her point and is confident the message was received, and so moves on to the next item on the agenda. "Like I was saying, I will not be your only coach. I will instruct you on all aspects on the ice and oversee your training schedule. In addition, you will have a dance instructor and a strength coach—that's Trym here." 

The woman herself smiles, looking pleased despite witnessing two grown adults get scolded like teenagers. Probably _because of_ that. "I already know Galen more than I ever wanted to, but I haven't met you yet, girlie." She nods at Birdie. 

"Birdie Morlas! Nice to meet you, Trym. Thanks for helping us out." Birdie greets with forced cheer. 

"You won't be thanking me after today's workout," the halfling grins menacingly at her, and based on the groan that erupts from Galen, this is not an idle threat. 

Acorn unclips two packets from her clipboard, holding them out to Birdie and Galen. "This is your training schedule. I expect you to follow it religiously." Birdie takes both and hands one to Galen, her eyes already scanning the pages. She nearly chokes. 

Seven out of the eight days in the week are scheduled nearly down to the minute. What time to wake up, what to eat for breakfast, what stretches to do, what time to show up at the rink, and it continues for the whole day. The only day left open (scheduled as a "rest day") is Hielat. Birdie had been accustomed to a rigorous training schedule before she quit, but this is on another level. 

Even Galen, who at least has been active in the sport recently, is twitching an eyebrow as he looks over the schedule. "This is..." he starts.

"A lot." Birdie finishes. 

Acorns nods. "This is what it's gonna take if you want to succeed. Let's hope that chemistry we saw on the ice extends off the rink too, because you're going to be seeing a lot each other."

* * *

Trym, as it turns out, is every bit of the hardass she presents herself to be. The workout she subjected them to was not going to be easy to forget; both in her mind, and for her muscles. Birdie groans as she struggles down the stairs to the ice rink, gripping the railing for dear life and leaning most of her weight on it. 

Galen chuckles, but it comes out as more of a wheeze. "Trym is going to be the death of us."

"Only if Acorn doesn't off us first." 

Birdie finally makes it to the first floor, but her leg spasms under her weight. She stumbles, grasping wildly for the railing. 

"Whoa, whoa, I got you," Galen's hands reach out to steady her, one on her shoulder and the other wrapped around her torso, helping her stand up straight. 

She leans into his support gratefully, and tries to laugh off the rising embarrassment that's heating up her cheeks. "There's probably going to be a lot more of that happening on the ice, huh?"

"I sure hope not," Galen frowns, stepping back to let Birdie stand on her own, hands finding themselves deep in his pockets again. _A perfect gentleman,_ she thinks, _but he's going to have to get used to being in my personal space constantly._

They stand in front of the staircase, staring at each other. It's the evening now, the windows lining the entryway of the complex showing the inky blackness of the night sky. Most people have left already, but the faint sound of chatting and cleaning can be heard from down the hall, where the ice rink is. Trym is still upstairs in the training room, tidying up after the workout. Acorn is probably in her office, figuring out other ways to put them through hell. She and Galen are alone for the first time since they met.

Birdie realizes she's been staring at the same time he does. She fumbles for something to say in order to not seem like such a creep.

"About the lift—"

"I wanted to apologize—"

They speak over each other, then stop. 

"You go ahead." 

"No, you go first."

Birdie laughs and shakes her head. "Okay, this is silly. We don't need to be so polite. What I was going to say is, I'm sorry about suggesting the lift to you. That was thoughtless of me, and I should've known better."

Galen sighs and runs a hand through his hair, the strands twitching and curling around themselves. "If you're at fault then so am I. I was way too eager and wanted to try it out. You didn't pressure me into anything."

"And, you know, I think we pulled it off quite well," Birdie adds, smiling mischeiviously and waggling her eyebrows. Like she hoped, he smirks back at her, his serious expression from before wiped away. He really does have a nice smile.

"It was pretty awesome." 

"Wasn't it? Imagine all the brilliant maneuvers we could try—"

"I've always wanted to try a spin with—"

"OI!" A voice rings out, interrupting their excited babbling. Acorn stands at the end of the hall, dropping their bags on the ground. "It's getting late, you two. Save the choreography discussion for later and go get some rest. Remember the schedule?" She holds up the clipboard that she apparently always has on her, and taps the timetable displayed on it. 

Galen darts forward and grabs both bags, slinging his own around his shoulder while he holds Birdie's out to her. He gives a salute to their coach. "Roger that."

Birdie waves to Acorn. "Thanks again for everything! See ya tomorrow!" The faintest of smirks appears on Acorn's face, but it may have been a trick of the light. 

The air outside the arena is much warmer, the humidity of summer a pleasant contrast to the typically drier air inside. The sweat on Birdie's skin is starting to dry and itch, and she must stink, but she finds herself hesitating in the parking lot, once again glancing at Galen. 

"Do you drive, or...?" 

"No, I don't have a car. I might try to hitch a ride with Trym. What about you?" His hands are lodged in the pockets of his sweatpants, where they always seem to be, but his hair whips about in excited bursts, and he's stopped to chat with her despite the late hour. 

"Me either, I usually take the bus." She shrugs and smiles tentatively. Bloody hell, what is the matter with her? There is no reason for her to feel so awkward around him. He is her _partner_ now, they can't afford to be weird around each other. She shakes her head and fixes her posture, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm excited to work with you, Galen. Really. I'll do my best to be an excellent partner and not let you down."

His eyes go wide, apparently not expecting the sudden shift to a serious yet earnest statement. His hair speeds up again. "Me too, Birdie," he says, and she thinks that might be the first time he's said her name. "I want to make this work. I don't want to fuck it up."

Feeling embolded, Birdie reaches out and grabs his wrist where it's poking out of his pocket and gives it a squeeze. "Thank you." She lingers for a moment, smiling and taking in those blue eyes of his. "I should get going. See you tomorrow?" She starts to release her grip.

His hand emerges from his pocket and grabs hers, returning the squeeze. "You too. Thank you." Unlike her large and unrestrained smiles, his is smaller, trying to grow larger but twitching back down into a smirk before it can take hold. Like a chick standing at the edge of the nest and tentatively flapping their wings but still too scared to take flight. Birdie thinks she'd like to see him fly. Galen suddenly remembers himself, and he clears his throat and lets go of her hand, reaching up to stratch at the back of his neck. "Have a good night. See you tomorrow."

The walk through the parking lot to the bus feels longer than normal. Maybe it's because her muscles protest the entire journey. Maybe it's because of late time of night. Or maybe it's because Birdie has to resist the urge to turn around and glance back at Galen. If the slight tingling sensation in the middle of her back is any indication, he's watching her walk away. 

Birdie smiles. She's excited for tomorrow.


End file.
